America's Dream
by Ita-chan18
Summary: "I wanted to see the world that England saw...So, it wasn't betrayal. I was letting of his hand."


America's Dream

America sighed as he laid down on his bed. He wasn't necessarily going to bed, but just laying there thinking. He was thinking about many things, but in particular about his childhood. It was a couple days after he had attempted to clean out his storage room, but couldn't manage to do so. Looking through all the old trinkets bought back memories that he'd rather not remember. Though over the past few days he had tried to forget them, he just couldn't seem to put the old memoires away. There was so much he had wanted to tell England, but just couldn't seem t tell him. He rolled over on his bed, and closed his eyes. Maybe some sleep would help him forget...

**THE NEXT DAY**

America fought to keep awake during the meeting the next day. He honestly did not sleep well the previous night. The same dream kept plaguing him every night, and he wasn't sure why either. America, after awhile of fighting it, he laid his against the table, and went to sleep...

America felt the rain hammer down on him. He was in his normal clothes, but that's how this dream always was. He looked onto the scene that was in front of him, though he honestly did not want to look.

"Dammit, why?" America's eyes widened at hearing England are crying voice. No, this time it was different. It was of _that _time.

"You were... So big." America covered his ears, not wanting to relive, or at least re-hear, the whole scene. It was the same scene that he had tried for many years to forget. He gasped as he felt England's hand cover one of his own, and pull it down so he could hear him speak. No, it wasn't the England of now-a-days, but it was the England that he faced that day he decided to leave, and become independent.

"You were so loved, so taken care of, so adored, so then I wonder America..." America felt tears come to his eyes as he heard the older nation's soft tone of voice. It was one that he hadn't heard since he was a child, and it was one he deeply missed, though he could never tell him that. At this point, the scene melted away, and suddenly, it was England's voice speaking to him, it was his own.

"**Why did you betray him**?" America turned his back, though there was nothing to look at.

"Wro-wrong!" He yelled, through a shaky voice as he squeezed his eyes shut. Images suddenly came to his mind. No particular scenes, but just images of him, and England from that time. The time when he was truly proud to be England's younger brother, and wasn't secretly jealous of him though he'd never tell England t hat either. There was England, in his old uniform. There was England taking care of him while he was younger, and sick with a cold. There was England feeding him as a child, America would never understand how he had such a horrid taste as a kid. There England taking care of America's broken arm, and again wrapping his finger in a band-aid after he had cut it on accident. There was England smiling as he handed his favorite young nation a new toy. "Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Th-that's not true at all!" He yelled as he again covered his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as one last memory infiltrated his thinking. It was not a clear one, but he could still remember it. America was such a tiny thing, and England had picked him up. America's blue yes looked over the short nation's shoulders." I didn't want to always look over his shoulders!" He shouted in defense.

"**Really?"** The voice asked, as if doubting that America was telling the truth. America looked as his younger self looked up at the sky. He too looked at the blue, blue sky.

"Really, I wanted to be next to him." America seemed to calm down a bit as he looked at his younger self, his own blue eyes looked blankly behind at England." I wanted to see the world that England saw." His eyes filled up with tears again, and he returned to a dark room. He saw a hazy figure in the distance. He squeezed his eyes just a bit. It was the old England, but he just couldn't see his expression. America's eyes spilt over with unshed tears. "So, it wasn't betrayal. I was letting o of his hand." America continued to look at the old England. "Always, always, always, I just wanted to..." His breath caught as the Brit turned, and smiled at him It was the same smile he had missed so much. "I can't-"

"America! Hey wake up!" The young nation opened his eyes, and looked sleepily at the clearly annoyed England."The meeting is over! Seriously you're a host nation! You gotta stay awake during these meetings! How do you expect anyone to listen or do anything when your asleep!" America drowned out the Englishman's parent-like rant. After his dream, he honestly didn't feel like listening to his nagging. It made him feel like a child all over again. Without realizing it, he had started to cry again, which made England stop nagging, and look at America somewhat confused. Why was he crying? Instead of just criticizing the young nation, like he normally would he have, he instead put an arm around the American's shoulders, and pulled him close."Jeez, what are you crying for?" He whispered, making America smile a bit. Maybe his dream had finally come true...

**END**


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